


Mine

by Detavot



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon - Manga, Canon Compliant, F/M, I was feeling angsty hope kinda thing, Manga & Anime, These kids are way too grownup in this fic, soo unrealistic mentalityTM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 12:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21136769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detavot/pseuds/Detavot
Summary: The bruises left on their bodies were not visible to anyone but them--a sign of ownership they knew very well.





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I spent my nights on this instead of Childish Games, sue me

They met again in the graveyard.

Snow flutters lazily to the ground, their weights carried easily by the light breeze currently in reign. They were large enough drops for their appearance took on the misleading resemblance to cotton. They brushed upon her cheeks and left cold, wet trails. Her head was cold, she had taken off her hat. The ends of her hair were beginning to straighten, the water proving to be too heavy for her hair to maintain the curls. She did not mind. Her thoughts left her insides too cold for the hearth at home, deceptively warm--she would rather stay here and become numb to the world.

The snow crunched and squeaked beneath another pair of boots. The sound was muffled by the freshly covered ground, though the absence of the ever-present noises of the world made her more aware of her surroundings. She did not turn. She cared not for whomever approached her at this time.

“It is cold,” said a voice she had not wanted to hear for at least another while. She turned to him. His head was covered by a black, woolen hat, he wore a thick brown coat. He was wearing his white, medical eyepatch for some reason; his hands were covered by black, leather gloves. His skin was pale. His visible eye, a deep blue, had very noticeable purple bags underneath it. His nose was as red as Rudolph the reindeer’s--if, of course, the song was to be believed. The boy did not turn towards her. “I shall take the watch if you wish to remain vigilant, though I am quite sure he won't crawl out again.” He was looking thinner. The coat dwarfed him, the gloves didn't quite fit.

She thought he deserved it. She felt a savage pride and the satisfaction of revenge knowing that he was suffering. She also knew that he knew what she was thinking. It was why he didn't turn towards her anymore, why he never looked her in the eyes. The betrothal was going to come to a swift end. She knew all he needed was her consent to make everything public, he had told her this two weeks ago. A simple ‘yes’ and she would be completely severing everything that stood between them. He was still waiting for it. That was most likely the only reason he had come here and was talking to her, he was not someone who believed in visiting the dead.

Why was she hesitating?

She could be mean about it. He would never say anything back to her, never insult her about how she had mistaken him for the betrothed she was supposedly head-over-heels in love with for three whole years. He wouldn't tell her that he had only paid attention to her to keep the act alive. He’d just nod and turn his back, never say a single word. It would be like nothing ever happened between them. He would most likely only send a bland letter every other holiday to keep the family together--not even written by himself--and they’d only see each other in a few social gatherings. She doubts he’d ask her for a dance at those. Why would he? He wouldn't want any more scandals after everything.

Once he was free of their engagement, he’d finally be able to move on without anything dragging him back. Maybe he would even find a girl whom he would want to spend his life with. A girl with whom he could be himself, who would love him and him alone, someone he could be with purely because he wanted her by his side. Maybe that girl would be Sieglinde Sullivan. She was smart and strong, was she not, being Her Majesty’s personal chemist? She didn't have any swaying loyalties for him to question. They would be perfect together, two geniuses in their fields. She could already see the headlines. If she pushed herself a bit further, she could even imagine the picture.

Those were the thoughts that stayed her tongue.

She tasted bile in the back of her throat. Her mouth had gone dry, her chest ached, she couldn't think straight. If she said yes, she knew that some of her assumptions would become reality. She’d be forgotten, just some phase of his life he didn't even want in the first place that passed on as quickly as a breeze.

She was staring at him at this point, hoping that he would look at her just once. He could make one of his ‘are you retarded?’ looks at her (often directed at his servants when they are too careless) if he wanted to, she couldn't care less.

They had hurt each other horribly, hadn't they? They had scarred one another, even if it wouldn't be visible. No matter what happens, that part of him would always be hers--even if she were to be forgotten, he would always carry the signs of her existence. She wished she was selfless enough for that to be enough for her, selfless enough to say that damned word and set them both free.

Just standing beside him warmed her heart. Just his presence was enough for her pulse to quicken and for her fingertips to feel pins and needles. The boy’s mouth opened and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“I still have not come up with a believable excuse,” the boy stated. “For our engagement’s abrupt end, of course, not the… other events. Do you have any ideas?”

Elizabeth smiled sadly and looked ahead. Of course. “I don't believe I am the best person to ask.” How silly of her to think he’d perhaps ask her to stay over or let it slip past his lips that she ‘should come home’. How childish. He had lost his brother for the second time in his life, she had lost someone she had loved dearly; and all she could do was imagine romantic scenarios between her and her past betrothed’s brother. It was revolting.

“Is that another way of saying you cannot think of any excuses either?” There was a change of tone in that sentence. She didn't know what it was or why it was there, but she heard it and it made her heart race. She turned to him and saw that he was looking at her with a smile on his face. Thank God it was so cold, this was a weird moment to blush. She couldn't even tell what type of a smile this was. She liked it, though. It made him look more boyish.

“I could come up with a better excuse than you.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Of course it is!” The odd nature of this situation did not escape her. Here she was, arguing with the boy she loved about how she could come up with a better excuse to cut their relationship off. But the boy was looking at her with life in his eye, staring into her eyes, speaking to her and her alone. This could be their last conversation together. She had to stretch this out as long as possible. “Boys have no taste when it comes to words, they lack the intellect for it. You ought to leave it up to the girl.”

“Ah, then would my Lady care to enlighten me in a subject in which I am so irreversibly out of my depth?” She could almost let out a giggle at the polished words but it felt too out of place. She settled for widening her smile.

“If I must.”

The boy held out his hand to her. Was it just her or were his cheeks reddening as well? Was he getting frostbite? “Would you care to continue this conversation inside? I would hate for our lips to freeze off before we go any further.” Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn. The boy’s eye grew two sizes as he tried to stammer out apologies. Elizabeth did giggle this time as she took his hand, putting an end to his word salad, and led him out of the graveyard.

“That would indeed be such a shame, Earl Phantomhive,” she said as they walked to the Phantomhive manor.

They had hurt each other in the past, they had survived. They were ready to do it again and again, until death knocked on their door. 


End file.
